


Just A Crop Top

by capyshota



Series: A Guide to Navigating Your Dead Brother's Voyeurism [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Assisted Masturbation, Ben's POV, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Incest Kink, M/M, Name-Calling, Non-Contact Sexual Encounters, Pseudo-Incest, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capyshota/pseuds/capyshota
Summary: "It’s eating you up, the way you want me, isn’t that right?”Klaus doesn’t look smug like Ben would expect. Instead, a vulnerable sort of innocence is showing itself in his features.Ben clenches his fists. “Shit… Yeah, Klaus.”“I know, because I feel it too. Every part of me wants you, even though we were raised together… as brothers.”Ben realizes Klaus is setting him up, urging him to segue into a scene. He swallows thickly and takes the bait.“You want your brother to dominate you? Tell you how filthy you are for wanting it?”Klaus lets his eyes slip shut. “Yes, please,” he whispers.





	Just A Crop Top

When Ben reaches the end of his chapter, he shuts the book and looks across the room.

Klaus is cross-legged on his bed with his lip between his teeth, staring out the window.

It’s raining and the sound against the glass is as comforting as it always was; Ben is glad he can still appreciate some of the simple pleasures of life.

“What are you thinking about?”

Klaus startles. “What? Oh. Uh… Life, I guess.” He shrugs. “Classic Wednesday existentialism, you know?”

Ben nods. He’d had his fair share of existential nihilism, followed closely by in-depth scrutiny of epistemology after he’d died. Months of it, without a break.

Klaus lifts his thumb to his mouth and chews on his nail. He’s wearing a green top, cropped halfway up his chest with the word _LOVERS_ embroidered in white, and tight pants with black and white vertical stripes. They remind Ben of _Beetlejuice_.

Shortly after Grace was made, before she’d even given them names, she had let them watch that film, most definitely without the permission of Sir Reginald.

They had all cried.

Well, everyone except Klaus.

The ghosts had given Ben nightmares for nearly a week, and Klaus would come and tell him jokes and stories until he fell asleep again. They were all too young and naive to apply that trauma to what their own brother went through every day. And he _certainly_ hadn’t considered that, thirteen years later, he would become one of the ghosts.

“Yeah,” Ben murmurs, “I know.”

He wanders toward Klaus, stepping around the cushions splayed across the floor.

“Maybe you should clean your room. I’ve heard that really takes the mind off the futility and uncertainly of life,” he says, sitting on the edge of Klaus’ bed.

“Hm, I don’t think I’ve heard that,” Klaus replies. His gaze shifts from the window to Ben, a devious glint in his eye. “But I _have_ heard of something else that works even better.”

His hands, folded in his lap, slowly uncurl and slide up his chest, playing with the hem of the crop top. Klaus quirks an eyebrow, silently asking permission.

Ben trails his gaze over Klaus’ body, then nods at the open door. “You should probably get that; Diego’s home.”

Klaus looks at Ben for a long moment before huffing and sliding off the bed like he’s boneless.

He sticks his head out into the hallway and shouts, “Due to an _anonymous_ complaint, I, Klaus Hargreeves, will temporarily be shutting the door to my bedroom! No more defacing the antique mahogany posts, _Diego!_ ”

Klaus throws the door shut. He skips back to the bed but pauses before hopping up. He shimmies out of his Beetlejuice pants and kicks them into the middle of the room then scuttles up and sits cross-legged.

In just a crop top and briefs, Klaus looks like he should be blasting Britney Spears and sucking on a lollipop.

“Benny…” Klaus looks up at him with wide, doe eyes. “What if we tried something a little… different?”

_Different_ to Klaus could mean anything from roleplaying to literal torture. Ben is no stranger to Klaus’ sexual exploits, in fact he probably remembers more of them than Klaus does, but there’s only so far his predictions can take him into the drug-fuelled bonfire of Klaus’ mind. He treads on cautiously.

“Different how?”

Klaus leans forward into Ben’s space. “I want you to degrade me.” he murmurs.

Ben’s stomach jumps.

“Call me names, make me beg and cry, real depraved shit. God, Ben, I’ve been _dreaming_ about it.” Klaus sticks his lower lip out in a pout, anticipating the answer.

Ben hesitates. “I… I don’t know if I can…”

He doesn’t have a dominant personality. Not even close. And he’s seen Klaus take part in this exact type of activity with other, far more talented and, not to mention, _experienced_ people. There’s no way he would be able to measure up.

That’s not to say he hasn’t thought about it. A lot. But Ben’s internal concept of himself is a lot different from who he actually is; he’s infinitely more confident in his head.

“No, yes you can!” Klaus scrambles up onto his knees. “You can. Remember when I was fucking that guy in the motel he other week? Uh, Kyle or Carlos or—”

“You never asked his name,” Ben helps.

“So let’s say Kyle,” Klaus continues. “And—and, and you were talking about me being a useless little fucktoy?”

Ben has an obstinate inner-resistance. “I didn’t say that—”

“You know what I mean!” Klaus whines. “Holy shit, _it was so good_. _You_ were so good, Ben.”

Klaus’ eyes are so earnest.

Ben purses his lips. After a long moment he sighs.

“…Do you need a safeword, or—”

Klaus claps his hands together sharply, a grin splitting his face. “Yes. Okay, okay, let’s make it…”

“…Beetlejuice?” Ben offers.

Klaus gasps. “I love that movie. Ghosts ganging up to haunt and terrorize the criminally attractive? What a novel concept. Never been done before.” He smiles teasingly, something easy and genuine that Ben feels tug at his heart.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I _wish_ I was out haunting Winona Ryder instead.”

Klaus pouts. “Aw, you don’t mean that, Benny.”

He slowly pushes his legs apart and trails one hand from his knee up to rest near the crease where his thigh meets his hip, keeping his eyes locked with Ben’s. He reaches down to cup his cock, still soft, through his briefs and play with it.

“I know you. And I know how much you want this.” Klaus digs the heel of his hand down gently, over and over in little circles. His tongue peeks out from between his lips and a little crease appears between his brows. “How much you want _me_. You wouldn’t say no to me, would you?”

Ben’s mouth is suddenly very dry.

“…No,” he whispers, eyes roaming Klaus’ body. “…I wouldn’t.”

“I can feel it in the way you look at me,” Klaus murmurs, free hand snaking under his top to pinch a nipple. “The _want_. It’s eating you up, the way you want me, isn’t that right?”

Klaus doesn’t look smug like Ben would expect. Instead, a vulnerable sort of innocence is showing itself in his features.

Ben clenches his fists. “Shit… Yeah, Klaus.”

“I know, because I feel it too. Every part of me wants you, even though we were raised together… as brothers.”

Ben realizes Klaus is setting him up, urging him to segue into a scene. He swallows thickly and takes the bait.

“You want your brother to dominate you? Tell you how filthy you are for wanting it?”

Klaus lets his eyes slip shut. “Yes, _please_ ,” he whispers.

“Are you ashamed of it?” Ben pulls his feet up under him. “Because you should be.”

Klaus whimpers and slips his hand into his briefs.

“God, you’re disgusting,” Ben hisses, biting the inside of his cheek.

Throwing insults at Klaus isn’t actually as hard as he’d thought it would be.

“Touching yourself to your own brother’s voice. Look at you, you’re already so hard.”

Klaus is flaming, a blush already painting his neck and shoulders. His mouth drops open when he starts to properly stroke himself.

“Take those off,” Ben mutters, looking down at his briefs. “No point in modesty when I already know what a little whore you are.”

That feels a little less natural in Ben’s mouth, less comfortable; he nearly flinches. But Klaus shivers and moans, a pathetic, broken little thing, and Ben’s confidence jumps up a notch.

He slides out of his briefs and tosses them aside before grabbing the hem of his top.

“No—”

Klaus pauses and looks up, a question on his lips.

“Keep that on,” Ben murmurs. “It makes you look like a little twink.”

Klaus actually looks taken aback for a moment, but it quickly shifts into a coy smile. He pulls the shirt taut across his pecs and poses.

“Yeah? Slutty little twink?”

Ben leans forward a little, into the challenge. “That’s right. You look like a desperate, horny teenager.”

Klaus takes his thumb gently between his teeth and grabs his cock in his other hand, playing up the image.

“If I finish all my homework will you ride my ass?”

Ben manages to suppress whatever is curling in his chest. He narrows his eyes.

“You’re acting like a brat.”

Again, he manages to catch Klaus off guard. He recovers quickly, no intention of letting Ben exploit his surprise.

“What do you mean? I’ve been so good, all day.” He leans forward onto his hands, grinning. “I’ve been so so _so so so_ —”

“Shut up.”

Klaus snaps his mouth shut.

“If you’re going to act like a dumb brat,” Ben hisses, “I’m going to treat you like a dumb brat. Fair?”

Klaus nods, eyes wide.

Ben spreads his legs and points to the spot on the bed between them. “Come here.”

Klaus crawls forward obediently and looks up at Ben.

“I wish I could spank you,” Ben hums, and Klaus sucks in a little breath. “You like that idea? You want your little brother to spank you? Slap your ass until it’s all red and sore?”

Klaus swallows. “ _Fuck_.” He looks up with pleading eyes. “Do you want me to…?”

His hands fist restlessly in the sheets, and Ben has to think for a moment to figure out what he’s asking.

“…Do it for me?”

Klaus nods.

Ben swallows. _Yes, God, yes, please do that_.

“…Only if you do it well,” Ben hums.

Klaus slides his hand down to rest gently on his cheek, rubbing slow circles over it the way he knows Ben would do; a tender touch to contrast the striking pain. Klaus’ eyes are still on Ben despite Ben’s attention residing elsewhere.

He sucks in a breath and lifts his hand. It comes down solid, with an echoing smack followed by a quiet grunt. Klaus squeezes his eyes shut for a second before blinking back up at Ben, silently seeking approval.

Ben takes a second to consider. He’s seen Klaus spank and be spanked before—the sound had rung in his ears for hours afterwards.

“I think you can do better than that,” he finally murmurs.

Klaus sucks his lip into his mouth and has the diligence to actually look _embarrassed_ —not an expression Ben sees very often.

“Sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking.

Ben can’t think straight with Klaus looking at him like that so he glances away and clears his throat. “Try again.”

Klaus drops onto his elbow and it gently arches his spine, pushing his ass up just slightly. He lifts his hand and braces himself as it comes down hard on his ass, the slap resounding loud and clear. Klaus gasps and drops his head onto his forearm, quivering a little.

“That’s more like it,” Ben purrs, “Do it again.”

_Slap_.

“Again.”

_Slap_.

“Again.”

Klaus draws in a shaky breath. _Slap_.

“One more, Klaus.”

… _Slap_.

Klaus’ skin is a flaming, angry red that looks almost artful in its violence when compared to the pale expanse of his back.

“Mm… Think that’s enough?”

Klaus sits back, shoulders drawn up like a scolded child, and nods.

Ben smiles. “I agree. Now, if only I could show off your work to the rest of the family. Maybe you could help them out a little if they need it.”

Klaus bites his lip, not quite stifling a little whine.

Ben laughs. “Of course you’d like that. I could tie your hands up and make you use your mouth to get them all off while I watch.”

Klaus groans and grabs his cock to start jerking himself off.

“Don’t,” Ben says, more authority in his voice than he had anticipated.

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Klaus whimpers, almost too quiet for Ben to hear. He draws his hand back and curls it into a fist.

“Good boy. You’re gonna come for me without touching your cock, okay?”

Klaus bites his lip and nods with a little squeak.

It’s difficult, _really_ difficult, Ben knows that. But he’s seen Klaus do it, and he’s going to make him do it again.

“You can finger yourself. That’s it.”

Klaus’ shoulders are quivering a little. “…Now?” he clarifies quietly.

Ben nods and Klaus reaches for the lube like it’s his last life line.

He slicks up two fingers, but before he can press them in, Ben says, “Get on your back.”

Klaus quickly complies.

“Spread your legs.”

He does.

Ben smiles. He’s starting to get the hang of this.

Back when he was alive, he’d been a little… meek. No matter how good he was at something, there was always another sibling who was better. Diego was braver, Five was smarter, Klaus was funnier. He never resented any of them for it, but it meant Ben had kept quiet through most of their childhood.

Now, as unexpected as the circumstances are, he’s finally able to give orders and have them followed— _enthusiastically_ so. It’s electrifying.

Klaus is waiting with his tongue between his teeth for Ben to give him the word, fingers not quite brushing his hole yet.

“…Go ahead.”

He pushes both fingers in to the first knuckle and groans, working them gently until they sink all the way in. He pumps them in and out a few times, relaxing back into his pillow.

Ben starts inching forward on his knees. He makes his way between Klaus spread thighs, then further. He sweeps through Klaus’ legs to straddle his chest and looks down at him fondly.

“What a nice view.” There’s something about watching Klaus’ reactions to his own actions that’s particularly enthralling. “So where was I?” Ben murmurs.

Klaus seems to take it as a rhetorical question at first, but as the silence stretches on, he clears his throat.

“Y-You watch me get everyone off with my mouth,” he whispers.

“Mm, that’s right. Then when you’re done, it’s my turn, right?”

The slick squelch of lube as Klaus fingers himself quicker is a perfect soundtrack to the desperation on his face.

“Right,” Klaus breathes.

Ben shuffles up just a fraction higher. “…I think I’d lay you down in the middle of the foyer and sit on your face.”

Klaus shudders, spreading his legs farther apart.

“I would ride your tongue until you couldn’t breathe anymore.”

“God, _please_ ,” Klaus groans as he grinds back onto his fingers.

“Right in the middle of the house so everyone can see your cock, see how hard you are from eating me out.”

Klaus whines and it sounds like a petulant child throwing his daily tantrum.

“Tell me what you are,” Ben says, tone even.

The pink blush has spread across Klaus’ entire chest now. He’s breathing so heavily.

“I—I’m a slut. I’m _your_ slut, Ben. I’m—I’m dirty, and p-pathetic, and—”

“Why?” Ben interrupts.

Klaus looks up at him with wide eyes. His liner is starting to smudge and it makes him look like even more of a beautiful, dangerous mess.

“ _Why_ are you dirty and pathetic, Klaus?” he repeats.

Klaus’ lower lip wobbles.

“B-because I want to fuck my brother,” he whispers. “Want to feel his cock, want to taste him, want him to come all over me. My baby brother, so sweet and innocent…” His voice inches up into the territory of a growl. “ _God_ , he could fuck me so good; better than anyone else—”

“You think you deserve that?” Ben asks, voice icy. He looks down at Klaus with as much contempt as he can muster. “I’m going to use you as a fucking cockwarmer.”

Klaus whimpers, cock twitching.

Ben leans a little closer. His intangibility has finally proven useful, keeping Klaus in a perpetual state of wanting with no chance of tangible reward.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll fuck you over the back of the couch so all our brothers and sisters can see how much I appreciate you.”

Klaus pushes up against his prostate and hisses through clenched teeth. “Yes, _yes_ ,” he whispers.

Ben continues. “They already know you’re a filthy little slut. Why not make it clear you’re mine?”

Klaus squeezes his eyes shut.

Ben frowns. “Look at me.”

He whimpers and opens them again, slowly.

“You _are_ mine, aren’t you?”

Klaus nods desperately.

“Say it.”

“ _I’m yours_ ,” he moans.

“Again.”

“I’m _yours, Ben_.”

“Louder.”

“ _I’m yours!_ ” he sobs, gasping on the inhale.

“…Good boy,” Ben coos.

He climbs off of Klaus to stand by his bedside, and the memory of the incident that had started all of this strikes him like a slap in the face.

…How far they’ve come.

Klaus yelps and Ben looks down at the hand with two fingers pressed up into himself. His hips are arched a few inches off the mattress, and his hand is working in little circles, massaging his prostate.

“You think you can scream like that when I’m using you as my little fucktoy in front of everybody?”

Klaus nods, eyes glazing over with tears.

“Yeah? Then I’ll come inside you and lean you over to show off the mess dripping down your thighs.”

Klaus is working his fingers desperately, now, hips hitching up like his orgasm sits just a few inches higher. He’s flushed pink all over, tension in the set of his muscles showing how frustrated he is.

“I—I can’t,” he whines. “Benny, I can’t do it.”

Ben kneels next to him, their faces inches apart. He speaks so quietly that Klaus has so stop rocking against the mattress to hear.

“You can, Klaus. You will.” He wants to tuck Klaus’ hair behind his ear. “You’re going to come so fucking hard for me, Klaus. And you’re going to scream my name; scream your little brother’s name.”

Klaus’ chin is quivering. When he opens his mouth no words come out so he simply nods instead. His legs are shaking from the strain of holding up his hips so he drops back down and sucks in a few short breaths, sniffling. His brows are furrowed, deep in concentration, and a single tear rolls down his temple.

“You crying now?” Ben leans in. “Like a little baby? Is that what you are? Just a little cockslut who can’t fucking do anything for himself, hm?”

Klaus curls into himself a little, arm taut as he works his fingers.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Ben, I’m so close—” His voice is a rough whisper, raw and desperate. “So so close, I j-just—”

“What would make it better, Klaus? Your brother?” Ben drops to a hiss. “Your sweet little brother’s cock in your ass? Making daddy proud?”

“ _Yes, yes, yes, ngh_ — _Ben_ —” Klaus gasps and tenses, arching off the bed.

Ben waits a moment for him to come, but it never happens.

No… He’s already coming, it’s just dry.

“ _Shit_ ,” Bean moans, standing from the floor.

Klaus is alternating between holding his breath and desperately panting.

“Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, _fuck!_ ” Klaus sobs, rocking his hips.

His body drops back to the bed but he’s still trembling, free hand wrapped in the sheets.

Ben is entirely transfixed by the way Klaus’ stomach is shivering and convulsing and the whines they’re wringing out of him.

It seems like ages before Klaus regains his senses, whimpering as he pulls his fingers out. In the process of doing so, he seems to notice what Ben has also just discovered—he’s still hard. Achingly so, if the deep flush and streak of pre-come on his abdomen is anything to go by.

They both moan, although Klaus’ sounds a little more weary. The two of them make eye contact and Ben swallows.

“…Can you come again?”

Klaus, chest still heaving, sets his jaw and nods.

“Good boy,” Ben breathes. “Touch yourself.”

Klaus wraps a hand around his cock and hisses, moving slowly and carefully. It doesn’t take long for him to build up to a quicker pace while Ben spurs him on with whatever pops into his head.

“Wish everyone else could see you like this, with your little red ass and your slutty top, about to come all over yourself—”

Klaus’ orgasm hits without warning and his voice breaks on a cry. He comes hard, really hard, spurting up across his stomach and crop top and further, onto his face. Whether it’s intentional or instinctual, Klaus opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out and the next load stripes his lips and cheeks.

That hits Ben like a fucking train.

“Oh, Klaus, _fuck_ ,” Ben gasps.

A violent surge of arousal pulses through him and he fists his hands in the sheets to keep steady. He has to force his eyes to stay open as Klaus starts to come down, dropping back into his pillow.

“H-holy shit,” Ben whimpers.

Klaus, still panting and quivering, looks up at Ben with narrowed eyes.

“…‘I don’t know if I can’ _my ass!_ You’re way too good at that.” He clears his throat and rolls up onto his side. “Is there an underground ghost-porn market that you’re all keeping a secret from me? You been fucking other ghosts while I’m not looking?”

Klaus says it jokingly, but after a brief pause he sits straight up, face suddenly sobering.

“Shit, _have you?_ That would be so _hot_.”

Ben snorts. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I guess you’ll just have to sober up if you want answers.”

Klaus sucks his lip into his mouth and chews it. He looks surprisingly contemplative and if Ben has just convinced Klaus to break a high that’s stretched over a decade for the chance to see his brother get it on with another ghost, he’ll _actually get it on with another ghost_.

“So, are you… okay?” Ben asks awkwardly, perching on the edge of the bed.

Usually after a scene like this, Klaus will either fall asleep or move on to whatever else he has planned for the day. But sometimes there’s resistance—something that keeps him from moving on. He’ll shut himself in the bathroom, maybe cry, usually smoke something strong, and nobody ever bothers to ask if he’s okay.

Klaus relaxes back into his bed. “Right as rain, Benny. Why?”

Ben shrugs one shoulder. “Just making sure.”

He doesn’t give any further explanation, but he can tell Klaus extrapolates.

Klaus holds out an open palm and smiles sleepily at Ben.

Ben lets his hand hover over top, then presses closer and closer until his palm passes straight through Klaus’.

“I’m stellar, Liebchen. Truly fantastic.”

Ben nods. “I’m glad.”

Klaus hums happily and drums his fingers against his hipbones. He looks down at himself and pauses, then slowly looks back up to Ben with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“In other news,” Klaus purrs, “dare I say we’ve unearthed one of Benny’s kinks?”

He swipes the pad of his thumb through the come smeared on his chin and sucks it into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

Ben bites his tongue to keep from reacting.

Klaus moans—unrestrained and obscene—around his thumb, then pops it out to trace down his neck, emphasizing as he swallows.

Ben realizes the muscles in his legs have tensed and he has to willfully relax them. By the time Klaus peeks up at him again, Ben’s wearing his best poker face.

“You likey?” Klaus asks, batting his lashes.

“…It’s not bad,” he mutters.

Ben’s discovered how much more comfortable he is with his own vulnerability when Klaus is equally if not more vulnerable. But when Klaus has the upper hand, Ben gets stubborn; he doesn’t want to relinquish any ground by admitting what could be viewed as a weakness.

Their father’s training must have clawed its way deeper into his psyche than he thought.

“Hm.” Klaus frowns. “No, I don’t think that quite covers it. The other week you were watching me like a cat with a goddamn canary, which makes me think it’s better than ‘not bad’.”

Ben, quite by accident, lets out an indignant huff and Klaus grins.

“Oh, come on. What’s a little come-eating between brothers?” he teases. “This is a symbiotic relationship we have going on! Quid pro quo! And now I have an easy way to clean up when we’re done, so if you look at it that way, this is mutually beneficial.”

Ben can’t stop the slow smile that spreads across his face. He hikes himself further up onto the bed, passing through Klaus’ torso to lean against the window.

“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters.

Klaus smirks. “Believe it, baby.”

They fall silent after that, just listening to the rain, and Ben thinks about how lucky he is to have… whatever this is, making him feel more alive than he ever did when his heart was still beating.

**Author's Note:**

> I have the same striped pants as Rob and one time I went for a haircut and the women called them ‘Beetlejuice pants’, so there you have it.


End file.
